Aliens: I heard you the first time
by Dance of the Dead
Summary: An immature joke backfires on Hudson. I'm working on a series of prompts with Lucreace, this is the first of many!


"Sorry, sarge, didn't catch that!" Hudson feigned ignorance to the order he'd just been given. The fact that he was already being told off for being his usual grade-A idiot self clearly hadn't quite hit the mark.

"Get too it, Private, before the rest of your squad suffers, same as you!" Apone fumed towards the grinning Private. Clearly the joke was wearing thin. He'd been asking his Sergeant to repeat himself all morning, trying to claim there was something wrong with his ear that'd get him out of doing any of the really hard graft.

"Sir, yes, sir," Hudson stated giving a rather mockery salute before jogging off to do the laps of the hangar bay as he'd been ordered. No point in making the rest of 2nd Battalion Brave Team pissed at him for his tom foolery, not this time anyway!

He was in the middle of his third lap when the alarms went whirring over head. Instantly the Private returned to his station with his Squad mates, not sure if he should be relieved that his punishment had come to an early end or not. Sirens were usually the herald of some really bad shit.

"What's going on?" Hudson asked, leaning over to Dietrich, her face looks strange and distorted in the rotating red and white lights of the alarm. She shouted something to him that he only just heard over the blare of the loud sirens.

"What?" He asked her to repeat herself and was greeted with a two fingered salute. He'd deserved that after his immature antics.

It was Sergeant Apone that came to enlighten the gathered Marines, in his hand was his usual unlit cigar, which only meant one thing; trouble.

"We've got a bunch of hostiles closing in on a colony of civilian targets, this is a rescue mission. You know your jobs, dress accordingly," the burly, black man told them briefly. It was all the Marines needed to know in order to scramble from their groups towards their lockers and gear. When it came to it they could be on the planets surface within mere minutes, they all knew their jobs that well.

"Hudson, check my gear?" Vasquez asked of her fellow Marine while his head was down looking for his helmet in his locker. She needed the approval of another squad member before declaring herself ready.

"Huh?" Hudson asked with a sideways glance looking up from where he'd been trying to gather his own equipment.

"Knock it off, asshole!" Vasquez put the tech-Marine in his place.

Hudson flashed his squad mate a broad grin before giving her a good look over, he nodded to her giving her his approval so that they could both move out. He'd already donned his body armour and was putting his helmet on his head loosely leaving the chin strap open, he'd never liked the feel of them around his neck, before getting his pulse rifle from where it had been stowed.

Getting on board the APC was the standard affair, fitting into the usual combat seating arrangement while everyone else found their own designated seat. It was during this time that he felt the comfort of his jittery nerves overwhelmed by absolute excitement. He felt this way during every drop. He couldn't help it, the APC was crammed with both his fellow marines and a healthy offering of technological goodies that he couldn't wait to get his hands on and play with. It was as the APCs engines started that his excitement and anticipation levels rose so that his mouth started talking before his brain properly engaged. The rough sputter of the engine driving them into the hangar of their designated drop ship. Only when they were in position did Hudson cease his mindless jabber, only to let out a raucous whoop when he felt the drop ship abandon its safe position, hugging the Sulaco. Hurtling towards the planets surface where they'd be facing up against who knew what!

The drop ship made a safe, if somewhat turbulent, entrance into the planets atmosphere. Dietrich just about managed to keep the contents of her stomach in place. Hudson gave her a look with a quirked brow, wasn't like her to be so queasy, the look he got given in return made it clear she'd been on one of her 'secret' benders the previous night with Frost! She turned a distinctly greener shade of sickening when the Drop ship touched down and the APC was evicted over the grumble of the APCs engines springing to life, the roar of the Drop Ships answered in kind.

Sergeant Apone removed the safety bar from his seat and stood up, demanding the attention of his squad. "We've got, One hour and Thirty," he looked don to the watch on his wrist, "Seven minutes to get as many of these civilians secured and waiting for evac before this area is overrun by bugs," the sergeant explained, "We're not expecting to be hit by any of these fuckers, so standard issue equipment only," He added. "We're here to save lives, not cause more trouble!"

Hudson gave a slight groan when he heard it would all be standard affair with weapons, looked like it'd be a dull mission after all. "How long, sarge?" He couldn't help himself asking for a further repetition. Something needed to make the mission interesting. He was rewarded with a snarl and the reminder;

"You still owe me laps, Private, don't think I've forgotten!"

After being briefed further the Marines gathered their weaponry from their stowed placement and arrange themselves into correct order for dispersal.

Hudson was shocked by the humid heat-wave that greeted him as he disembarked from the APC, he'd been expecting the usual downpour of artificial rain that often accompanied terraforming colonies. The dirt underneath his feet was dusty and the whole place hadn't seen a drop of water in months, maybe even years.

The squad was instantly blocked from their objective by a set of heavy duty blast doors that had been sealed from the inside; presumably the civilians here hadn't been expecting a rescue and had sealed themselves in their complex t buy themselves some precious time.

"Hudson, get us inside," came the order over the comms link. Before the tech-expert even moved a foot the order repeated.

"Get us in now, Private," The order sounded more urgent the second time.

"Aye, Sir," Hudson replied moving to where he could access the doors data panel to get his team within the complex. He tore open the panel and expert fingers got the blast doors opening quicker than a virgins legs on her wedding night!

At the door two marines stood weapons at the ready, standard procedure. The sight that the doors revealed wasn't what any of them were expecting. Hudson heard someone gasp down the comm link and he was certain it was Hicks that uttered a curse, that didn't bode well.

The scene within was something akin to a horror movie, blood splattered the walls, with dragged smear marks along the floor where someone had been dragged from their last ditch escape; their body was still discarded half way along the entrance corridor in front of another set of blast doors. It was grim sight and instantly changed the parameters of the mission.

"Alright," Sergeant Apone took a pause to think, "We've gone from an easy rescue mission to potentially imminent hostiles," Their boss informed them without waiting for word from the observing luuitenant on board the APC. He knew his job well enough without having to be told they'd just walked into a whole new world of hurt!

The nightmarish scene that the doors had revealed had Hudson on edge and he thought back to how they'd left his powerful toys on board the APC, not that the personnel carrier had left them behind and it wasn't as though they couldn't go back and get something, but the order came to proceed inside and the moment of suggestion was lost.

Hicks led the team inside with Vasquez next to him.

"Hudson, you're next." Apone ordered and once again before the private had a chance to move the order was repeated a little louder and certainly clearer through the comm. "Move in, Private,"

Hudson gave a slight frown, maybe there was something wrong with Apones gear? "Aye, Sir," Hudson repeated himself after the order making sure that he could be heard clearly himself. The tech marine made his way inside, trying not to be disturbed by the horrific scene as he walked though it; not quite on he same jaded level as some of the rest of his squad. Behind him he heard further footsteps and with the weight behind them he assumed it was either Frost or Drake.

"You know what to do, Hudson." Another order came in with the same repetition following it. "Get us inside, Private."

"Heard you the first time, Sarge," Hudson replied already moving to the panel to get the blast doors open.

These second doors opened just as easily as the first, if not a little more eager, revealing to complex proper. It was a science rig; made evident by the visible laboratories, discarded vessels and over scientific equipment that probably had an unpronounable name! There were large storage boxes near the entrance and lockers had been thrown over. Something had gone horribly wrong in the complex that much was evident. An overhead fire extinguisher belched cool steam over Hudsons head and he screamed a curse and jumped out of the way of it to avoid the worst of the shower.

"Motion trackers on," Hicks gave the order, Weizbowski and Hudson were quick to follow the command.

"On it," Hudson remarked before anyone had the chance to tell him twice. The gentle throb of the tracker was of little comfort. A heart-beating signal that told them there was no one home, until the gentle trill alerted them otherwise. It was Frost that called out the distance, but they all knew from the subtle tone of the warning bleep; twenty metres.

"Down there," Frost called out, motioning to a corridor to their right.

An overhead light buzzed and zipped out with a crack, darkening the corridor like something out of an 1980s horror movie. It made Hudson jump visibly, which earning him a knock on the shoulder from Dietrich; she always noticed these things!

"First Squad, move up," Apone ordered, adding, "That means you too, Hudson!"

The squad leader rolled his eyes and led the way down the corridor, knowing full well it mean him also. It was obvious where the movement was coming from, as there was a pile of rubble to one side that made the perfect hiding place; aside from its obviousness.

A pair of pale hands slowly showed themselves over the top of the discarded waste, with the panicked statement of, "Don't shoot, I'm a human."

Hudson moved up closer to the man and quipped, "Then it's your lucky day, man. So're we," he took hold of the man and ushered him into the middle of the squad where he could be better guarded until they regrouped with the rest of the battalion.

"It's the synthetics, when the call came in about the Aliens, they went crazy. Started killing everyone," the survivor uttered, babbling to the squad about what had happened. There was a thin layer of sweat covering the man, the front of his white shirt was covered with blood that was clearly not his own. He seemed fine, other than in a total state of shock.

"You get that sarge?" Hudson asked down the comms.

"Loud and clear, Private." Apone replied, the first exchange they'd had all day that hadn't required a repetition. Clearly the thought of synthetics going crazy had rattled them both enough to do their jobs properly. "Get that man out of here, Private and I mean double time." Sergeant Apone clearly thought that the man had vital information about what had happened throughout the complex.

"Heard you the first time," Hudson managed to voice with a grin to his features before Apone could tell him twice. "Crowe, you're on me," The Private called for his fellow marines help to get the man back to the APC where he'd be safer. "Any other survivors?" Hudson managed to press the man as they made a hasty retreat back the way they'd come.

"I… I don't think so " he replied, his eyes darting as though he could find some of his fellows just by glancing from side to side. The corridors weren't long and it didn't take them long to get to their destination. As they passed the other members of the battalion Hudson could hear them getting to work doing a full investigation of the complex. Searching to see if any one else was alive still and if there was anything worth salvaging in the wreckage. They still had their original orders to do, find friendliest and evac before they were over run. Hudson had just managed to get out of the hard work and babysit with Crowe; he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"What set the synths off?" Crowe asked, fishing for more details.

"I don't know," whimpered the man. "It's like something flipped in them and they just turned on us."

"Can they do that?" Hudson asked, his voice carrying to the front of the APC where their own synthetic was sitting behind the controls.

"Only if we're preprogrammed," came the hesitant answer, clearly not so certain if he should announce his affiliation with the artificial people that had just wiped out a colony. "I'd have to link up with one to see what had set them off, not impossible if you got one back here. In one piece or not."

Hudson flashed his overconfident expression to Crowe and told him, "Looks like we're going hunting!" He glanced towards the toys he had been dreaming about earlier.

"In one piece is better," Bishop told him with an expression filled with sympathy.

Hudson returned the look with an expression that reminded the synthetic of a bag of drowned puppies. The tech Marine moved back to the APC's doors and opened them, letting Crowe lead the way back to their squad. They only had a limited time to get what they needed before they were over run by bugs. It would be a challenge, but hell, they could do it. They could do anything, they were USCM; Except clearly hear orders!


End file.
